It took one shot to end a life.
A life lived in mountains and glens.
You king of deer, you creature of great horns,
of antlers that had spread and grown over long years,
of being the best beast in a rut, of being the strongest, the biggest.

Now you lie, oh noble one, at our feet as we stand in solemn silence
at the passing of your spirit, as we bare our heads
in the cold drizzle and think of the meaning
of what we have done in bringing you
down to the earth where you lie, now.

You’ve had your life, your ‘one shot’
and you made the best of it, conquering all
who would challenge you, to sire more of your kind.
Your kind who would ravage woods and land, for none will
stand in your way except for we humans who have rid you of your nemesis.

But we are the wolves now, where no wolves live.